


Midnight Interlude

by Lyciuum



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom John, Breathplay, Enthusiastic consent given off-camera, I promise everyone is having a great time, M/M, Nighttime equals passive voice, PWP, Short One Shot, Sleepy Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-09 16:05:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11108031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyciuum/pseuds/Lyciuum
Summary: Sleepy John gets fucked.That's it, y'all.





	Midnight Interlude

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, this is just a tiny scene of porn that sprang into my mind unbidden. It wouldn't go away, so it got written. 
> 
> You know, instead of all the actual plot-filled partials sitting on my computer. 
> 
> Happy Pride.

John sleeps.

He stirs at the click of a door latch, sleepily registering the thump of shoes on a floor, the rustle of a coat on a hanger, a tap running sluggishly in the loo.

_We really should fix that drip._

He dozes again, waking slightly as the mattress jostles, warm breath tickling his neck, arms wrapping around his waist. 

He rouses as a hand strokes his chest, rubbing lazy circles over his scar as his back warms from the press of chest to scapula. He arches back sleepily, a firm length pressing against his arse. 

_Mmmmmmmm._

He circles his hips slowly, savoring the heat running up and down his cleft. A thumb strokes his nipple, the other arm wrapping around his neck, pulling him in tightly as he gasps softly. He reaches back, languidly squeezing the firm crest of arse, a deep groan in his ear resonating into his chest. He feels the hand drift from his nipple slowly down, with small teasing pulls on the sandy blonde hair of his abdomen. He arches up, straining for more contact as long, elegant arms hold him in place. Fluid leaks onto his back as he writhes, moaning softly.

He feels two fingers entering his mouth and he lathes the fingers with his tongue, sucking gently on the tips. Tongue sliding between the fingers, he fucks them slowly with his mouth, a sharp intake of breath behind him. A click of a bottle, and he startles at the sensation of cold dribbling over his hole. Relaxing as it warms, a finger teases the soft flesh and his own hands move without thought, one to his prick, one stretching behind him, reaching blindly in the night.

Firm shafts in both hands, he strokes in time, thumbs teasing over slits. He shifts his hands in unison as a shudder passes through the body behind him. A finger presses in deep, and he gasps, body welcoming the intrusion. He fists the pair of cocks faster, struggling to find the rhythm. 

Two fingers now, stretching, massaging him open. Pressure on his perineum, and he grips the cocks by the base, breathing deeply at release denied. He feels a faint chuckle behind him, fingers pulling out as he tries to follow them, arching back with his hips. A hand grasps the cock behind him, lining up the angles, a thick fullness pressing against him. He tenses involuntarily, and a hand joins him on his cock as he grabs blindly at the hip behind him, desperate for control. Panting, hot breath in his ear, he feels the fingers slip out of his mouth, trailing wetly down his face, the large hand wrapping firmly around his throat, locking him in place.

He rocks back slowly into the pressure in his arse, feeling an answering thrust from behind. Slowly, slowly they pick up rhythm, moving faster and faster over the sheets. He tries to moan as the hand on his prick matches the speed of his thrusts, but can only gasp, lost in sensation. He feels warmth spread from his belly up his spine, a cup filling inside him, ready to be poured out. His vision blurs as he pants, eyes wide open in the dark, tongue thick in his mouth. He hears his own wheezy gasps as he rocks back again and again. There. There. Again he is filled, gasping for breath as he feels himself overflowing, his own rhythm faltering. A deep moan runs through him, a strangled cry. The pressure leaves his throat, and he comes in great, gasping breaths, heat spilling out of him as it fills him deep inside  

He relaxes, stills.

A faint drip a fluid tickles his thigh as he settles, eyes closing, cuddling close, arms and legs intertwined, a warm weight draping over his back. 

And John sleeps. 


End file.
